naked
by ronnie2424
Summary: syed and christian - ideas borrowed from eastenders and julian barnes's 'parenthesis'
1. Chapter 1

I lay feeling his smooth, warm back lying next to mine. Slightly smaller than mine; curved and soft as he breathes, making his back rise gently up and down against me. We always lie like this once in the depths of sleep, and I always wake slightly to find myself missing him.

I shuffle my legs and hips, trying to find more of his warmth. My skin feels his curved, tender buttocks against mine. I smile and sigh lightly in my sleepy consciousness. I am so lucky. So lucky to be able to feel his warmth like this even if it broke my heart to know that he might not be here in the morning. I could trace every single detail of his beautiful, tender body from memory. Every dip, every curve; so perfectly sculpted for my hands to worship, for my tongue to uncover and elicit soft whimpers from. Unravelling Sy was the most overwhelming thing I've ever done. I am the only one who makes him feel truly vulnerable, truly naked in every possible way... and I am exactly the same, solely in front of him.

I miss the feel of covering his body with mine. I turn over seeking more warmth, wrapping my arms gently around his delicate waist, pressing my cock lightly against his flawlessly smooth buttocks, curved perfectly for me to enfold. His smooth little lips mumble something incomprehensible in his sleep and they form a small, innocent smile. I can't take my eyes from his golden face as the street light highlights his features...Sometimes, I look at him and he's so beautiful, I can hardly breathe.

I nestle my head back down to the softness of pillows and my nose nuzzles gently into the small of his neck. Then he does it. He lifts his left arm, sweeps his hair gently to the side of his neck facing the ceiling and rests his hand back down on the duvet before him. It's as if he's laying himself bare for me, exposing his vulnerability and allowing me to access his nakedness. I feel such a powerful surge of love for him when he does this that I have to remind myself not to wake him up just to tell him how much I love him.

"I love you, I love you..." I mutter into the now bare back of his neck and a burning lump rises in my throat, I'm powerless to prevent the wet tears that glisten my eyes.

I love it when he does this, I think, feeling the sleepy thump of his slow heart beating through his back to my chest. Connecting us, an unbreakable bond stronger than any forces that have tried to prize us apart. Is he moving his hair subconsciously, or is he awake? I've never spoken to him about it. There is one way to know if he's aware of his actions or not, well, I think so anyway...

One night, in the spring, we had argued and his hair was cut shorter than usual...We were shouting at each other in one instance, toppling onto each other on the sofa the next...before I knew it we were making love like I never knew possible. So much anger, so much passion, so much yearning pushed into every thrust as I'd bounced him right there...having him on my sofa, wriggling and screaming for me underneath my body. Once we had collapsed naked and wet on my bed, he slumbered into an exhausted sleep within a few minutes and I cuddled up to his warm body. As I began to nuzzle into the warm nape of his neck, he moved his left arm and swept away his non-existent long hair from the back of his neck and laid his hand in front of him as usual. My heart skipped a beat at that moment and I felt like I could have burst with love and pain at the same time. Here laid this beautiful man before me, truly naked and vulnerable in a way only known between us and forces were still tearing us apart.

And here he is again. Back in my bed. After moving his delicious buttocks softly up and down my cock till I couldn't take it anymore and rammed him till he screamed with raw pleasure. Warming my body with his love and making me cry in his subconscious act of vulnerability. I try not to think about tomorrow, what pain it will bring as he tears my heart in two again. I'm going to lie here, breathing in his scent and nuzzling into the vulnerability at the nape of his now naked neck.


	2. Chapter 2

Syed pov...set before the last chapter...some parts inspired by Arundhati Roy 'The God of Small Things'

I run, tears blinding my eyes. I'm aware that I must look ridiculous but I don't care I just need to run away. Away from the dirt and the shame I can feel coursing through my veins, covering my body and making me feel sick.

I see the unit door and head straight for it – a sanctuary. I collapse onto the sofa and hold the cushion close to my chest, burying my face into it as childish gasps escape my shaking body, needing to hold something, to feel some comfort...then it hits me, that low reverberating pang that thuds somewhere deep in my stomach...I am so lonely...so completely alone in this world. It usually comes when a memory of Christian fleets across my subconscious mind – the part I can't direct despite my deepest efforts.

I let out a yelp of pain. Happiness and simplicity always went hand in hand with Christian. Now life is a daily struggle to strive for a happiness that suits my parents, a happiness that I can deceive my conscious self with. Now there is no Christian and the means of keeping up this pretence for my mother. I have nothing. I am nothing. What happened to all those dreams? Nobody seemed to understand that in my life, my hopes and happiness were in competition with the aspirations of everybody else...My wants and needs got thrown by the wayside of the great consuming vacuum that was my family and my community...At all times I have to look to the big things...No time to enjoy the small things.

Now this sickness rises again and is consumed in a despair that has no room in my life...I have to begin to make excuses and lie again, heaven forbid the mask should truly slip. I'll tell my parents that the sessions with Allen were finished. I'd finally been cured. No need for him anymore and I'll avoid Christian at all costs while I let the sickness subdue. Continue with the way he was training my conscious mind to think before he...I can't even bring myself to think of it without retching. His warm hand ghosting up my thy...his sickening smile hushing me to relax whilst my mind could only plan my escape route. Stop it you prick. Just stop it. Put a mental block on it. It never happened. The sessions are over because you're cured. You will be a good son. Deep breaths, slow and steady. Calm down. It's ok... I can feel the blood come slowly back to my head as I begin to breath properly, gaining mental stability with the physical. I rise slowly to my feet, a little shaky at first but my determination to please my loving, innocent parents overrides my weakness.

I'm half way to standing upright when his face suddenly appears in the doorway. His face; his body. So simple and perfect for me. I see in this instant that nobody can love him like I do now, this very moment that I'm caught off guard. How dare he? How dare he do this to me? Make me feel this on the moment I'm trying pull myself together and put things right.

"For God's sake Christian – what?"

"You're upset...Somebody's upset you...C'mon Sy, it's me..." he reaches out a hand, tries to touch my arm and it burns right through to my soul. Burns so deep the weakness that he makes me feel brings a raw surge of anger.

"Get. Off."

It's a snarl, a spit of pure haterid. His eyes look wounded as I shove his hand away. Good. Now he knows how it feels to hurt like this.

"Sy...I – I..." I see tears form in his marble green eyes...Regret plummits through me so deeply I can't bring myself to acknowledge it. Push it down. Push the feeling away. There's no room for it... "I just wanna help you..." he steps closer to me, this gentle hand rises to cup my face "let me help you.." it's a tender request to save the person he loves. A person he loves for the small things. His eyes are pleading with mine. His fingers forming a soft pattern against my cheek. No.

"No." It sounds like a growl that has just left my lips. "Why doesn't it permeate your thick skull that I don't want you!"

His hand drops as I scream the last words in his face. I want him to feel this. This pain should not be my burden alone. It's his fault I feel like this. His eyes harden and his soft, handsome features contort with anger.

"Why you couldn't take your eyes off me all yesterday was it?"

Shit. He saw that. I feel my face burn and I determinedly stride past him towards the door. This can't be happening again.

"Careful Syed – petticoat's shining again"

He's right in my face, making me feel the memory of this taunt like I made him feel my rejection.

"Stop it. Now."

His face changes. His expression unfathomable. I don't know what's coming next. I feel utterly vunerable to his whatever his next action might be. Whatever he decides to do, I know i'm about to break.

He steps right into me. His smooth, tantalising skin brushing oh so lightly against my cheek...His lips shuffle lightly at my ear. His voice is low, domineering...masculine.

"Odd, you never used to say that. You always used to say the opposite in fact..." he pauses, leaving me waiting with baited breath "...Do you still beg for more Syed?"

My mouth is dry...It can only form a choking noise...My mind can't bring it to form a coherent reply and my jaw muscles seem loose and useless...His forbidden whispers only stir one part of my body.

"Christian..." I hear myself whimper. It's all I can bring myself to do.

"What Sy? What do you want? Want me to set you on that desk again, push your trousers down and have you fucked?"

All that leaves me are helpless pants as flashes of that memory flood back to me... My face being pushed into the hard wood, his hand steady on my arse...His pelvis smacking against my buttocks as his cock pounded me relentlessly over, and over, and over...

I have to have him again.


End file.
